


the doorway I walked away from

by Ias



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, F/F, Hair Kink, Light Bondage, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ias/pseuds/Ias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road is like a river that bears Tauriel far from home, and its currents all lead to Galadriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the doorway I walked away from

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Innin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innin/gifts).



_Do you ever think of home?_

It is a question that neither of them asks aloud. It hangs between them like the globe of an unmoving moon, bright, unreachable. Tauriel can see it in Galadriel’s eyes, as they wander beneath the silver-golden beauty of the mallyrn. And Tauriel finds herself staring at the woman who at times looks like a carven statue, a relic of an older time, worn away at the edges, indistinct. She finds herself wondering the same question. _Do you think of that golden shore? Do you carry the West inside of you?_

Tauriel never asks. They both know the answer well enough themselves. What Galadriel says instead is: _Do you like it here?_

And Tauriel writhes against the sheets of Galadriel’s bed, gasping yes, yes, yes.

 

 

It is the trees that are the most different. The mallyrn of Lorien are too smooth, too pale, too far apart—thin white fangs rising from an earthy gum. They rise in slopes and smooth park, their heads crowned in gold. Tauriel peers into them, searching for tangled branches, crooked roots, dark hollows of moss and rot in between their limbs. Mirkwood is not a place easily described as beautiful. And yet she misses that sort of beauty here, the wildness, the darkness unlit by any star. She had moved through that darkness once, had become simply another shadow. It had felt right.

“Thranduil would allow you to return, if you wished it.” Galadriel only says this once. The angry, frantic kiss that Tauriel presses over her lips is answer enough to that. Yes, Tauriel wants to go home. But there is a time for homecoming and a time to wander farther, and her boots are not quite thin enough to turn to the East once more, nor her heart made tender enough with longing.

 

 

Tauriel’s feet have traced mountain ranges, dipped into rivers that rake down the land like gouging fingers. She has seen the stars wheel above in a dance she does not recognize, new shapes dipping over the horizon to greet her. She has flitted through cities and towns of Men, her hood pulled up, never staying long. But here, in Lorien, she is anchored. It is not home, of course. But it is a different way to stop running.

“I feel very out of place here, at times,” Tauriel admits one night. They have made their way back to Galadriel’s private chambers after a twilight stroll in the woods. They passed many of the denizens of Lorien, drifting like moon-shadows under the trees. Galadriel’s people seem to glow. Tauriel sucks in the light.

“It is true,” Galadriel murmurs, raising a hand to trace the contours of Tauriel’s face, her touch feather-light. Tauriel lets her eyes close, lets herself feel as Galadriel’s words seep into her. “You are not like us. Your roots in Middle Earth go deeper, and into darker places.” There is a breath of air, and without opening her eyes Tauriel knows Galadriel’s face has suddenly leaned much closer. “Do you feel yourself unwelcome here?” Galadriel murmurs against Tauriel’s smile.

Tauriel opens her eyes to meet Galadriel’s, as dark and blue as two pools reflecting the night sky. Her eyes dart down to Galadriel’s lips, but she stays the urge to lean in and claim them. “Your hospitality has been… decent, I suppose.”

“Perhaps you would prefer more feasting and hunting and drunken revels.”

“Well, you can certainly never go wrong with a drunken revel. And I do find myself enticed by the idea of a flush of wine on your cheeks, and your hair all a-muss.” Tauriel laces her hands into Galadriel’s hair as she speaks, tracing slow circles on the other woman’s scalp. Their lips still hang a mere breath apart.

“And then I suppose you would properly ravish me.”

Tauriel’s eyes travel back to Galadriel’s lips, and stay there. “I’ve considered it.”

“Perhaps you ought to get started, then.”

Tauriel glances towards the window without intending to, the careful thread between her and Galadriel broken. “I had thought I might wander your woods again tonight.”

Galadriel sighs, but there is fondness in it. “You wander farther every time.”

“Are you afraid that I’ll slip away without a goodbye kiss?” Tauriel says it with a smile, but from the way Galadriel’s face goes still, she wishes she had said nothing at all. Tauriel herself cannot say when the road will call her back again. Not knowing balances every interaction on the point of a knife. Yet Tauriel smiles, almost as an apology, and presses a slow, languid kiss to Galadriel’s lips. “This isn’t a goodbye.”

“Isn’t it?” Galadriel reaches up to run a hand through Tauriel’s hair, the caress following the line of her neck to settle on Tauriel’s chin. “Perhaps I might try other ways of keeping you here.”

Tauriel raises one eyebrow, her mouth quirking in amusement. “I’m intrigued.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Depends on how successful your methods are. But I’m willing to find out.”

A smile breaks over Galadriel’s face, and there’s something mischievous in it. So quickly that Tauriel can only blink, Galadriel rises. “I thought so. Disrobe, and get into the bed.”

Tauriel opens her mouth to make some retort, but Galadriel has already turned away. Shaking her head with a rueful smile—would Galadriel not even give her the pleasure of watching Tauriel remove her clothing?—Tauriel quickly strips her jerkin and breeches, until she stands on the stones with nothing but the cool night air against her skin. Galadriel has stepped over to her dresser, and seems to be searching for something within. There is a strangeness in the air tonight that Tauriel cannot place, a sense that something has changed. It raises on her skin, prickling bumps along her spine as she turns towards Galadriel’s bed, so familiar and yet looming impossibly large all the same.

Tauriel climbs up onto the padded frame, hesitating on how to position herself before slowly lowering herself back onto the pillows. It feels strange to be so exposed, so vulnerable in the presence of this woman who still remains a mystery. Strange, and exhilarating. She raises her head, tries to see what Galadriel is doing that keeps her attention so firmly, but at that very moment the other woman turns around with two lengths of silken cloth held between her hands.

Tauriel goes still, watching the slow, wicked smile on Galadriel’s lips as she winds them between her hands, pulling them as tight as a garrote as she stares at Tauriel’s prone form on the bed. Under her gaze Tauriel can feel her body reacting, the heat rising in her face and spreading over her chest as she realizes what Galadriel intends to do.

She is not accustomed to being the object of another’s gaze, to be held passive, captive, awaiting further instruction. And with the direction the night is taking, Galadriel is still wearing far more clothes than Tauriel would like. She begins to push herself off the pillows and move towards Galadriel as the woman stops at the foot of the bed, but Galadriel is quicker—she catches Tauriel’s hands as they reach for her, encircling each wrist in a grip whose strength surprises Tauriel not at all.

“What say you, Captain?” Galadriel murmurs, her voice low and deep with amusement. “Will you allow yourself to be bound here, if only for a night?”

Tauriel feels her heart beat faster in her chest. “As long as it’s your hands doing the binding, you can keep me here forever.”

It’s not strictly true, but it makes Galadriel smile. That alone sends a wash of something warm and delicious breaking over Tauriel’s skin.

Galadriel gently pushes her back onto the bed, until she’s lying on her back with her hands above her head. Galadriel straddles Tauriel’s hips, the fabric of her dress cool and soft against Tauriel’s skin. She releases Tauriel’s wrists, unwinding the silken ties from her hands—she lets them drag over Tauriel’s stomach and breasts, a slither of sensation that makes Tauriel’s toes curl. Only then does Galadriel lean forward, the brush of her hair replacing the touch of the silk on Tauriel’s skin. It takes every ounce of Tauriel’s willpower not to raise her hands to bury them in those tresses. A moment later, the temptation is removed. Galadriel binds her wrists to the bedposts, moving carefully and tying it tightly enough that even Tauriel doubts she could break free. At last Galadriel sits back and admires her work, eyes traveling from the bands around Tauriel’s wrists to the body they hold, a slow smile on her lips.

“I like you this way,” Galadriel murmurs. Her hands run from Tauriel’s wrists down her arm, following the lines of her collarbone where they jut out from the angle of her arms over her head.

“I prefer you with less clothes,” Tauriel retorts breathlessly, shifting her hips beneath Galadriel’s weight, already feeling the pressure building between her legs. There is little she can do to relieve it, she realizes. Her satisfaction is in Galadriel’s power alone. The thought makes her stomach twist deliciously, even as Galadriel’s fingers travel down, moving from her collar down to her breasts. Tauriel sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth as Galadriel’s fingers go to work, so slow and gentle as they massage her that Tauriel cannot help but arch into the pressure.

“Patience,” Galadriel murmurs. The look Tauriel shoots her, flushed and wide-pupiled as it is, makes a beautiful golden laugh bubble out of Galadriel’s throat. Her hands lift away, making Tauriel repress a protest at the loss of contact. But then Galadriel begins to unfasten the clasps of her own robe, and Tauriel’s complaints are all but forgotten.

Slowly Galadriel shrugs out of her clothing, sliding it down her body and tossing it to the floor beside the bed. It is a slow process, watching her strip, but Tauriel drinks in every new flash of skin, the way Galadriel’s hands gather the fabric of her dress and then skim over the flesh they reveal. When Galadriel is finally naked, she settles back onto Tauriel’s lap, her long hair spilling over her shoulders and breasts like the fall of starlight. Tauriel strains against the bindings on her wrists in spite of herself, yearning to touch, to run her hands through that beautiful hair until she’s lost in the sensation. But she can only wait, pulse fluttering in her neck, as Galadriel decides what to do next.

“Even now you are restless,” Galadriel murmurs, reaching down to cup Tauriel’s cheek in a gesture far more chaste than Tauriel would like. “Will you ever learn to be still?”

“I had hoped you might teach me in more than words,” Tauriel replies. But then Galadriel’s fingers slide to stroke over Tauriel’s lips, and Tauriel opens to them without question. She watches as Galadriel’s eyes go darker as she runs her tongue running over the points of both fingers until Galadriel draws them away. Galadriel shifts backwards, and for a moment Tauriel starts to call her back—until she slides her hand down Tauriel’s body, down between her legs.

At the touch Tauriel feels the tension leap through her body like the crack of a whip, painting a stripe of pleasure down her spine. She sighs, moving her body with Galadriel’s fingers, straining for more contact—but Galadriel stills her with a hand on her hip, a wicked smile hanging over Tauriel’s face. “ _Relax_.”

“Is that a command, my lady?” Tauriel gasps.

“Would you follow it if it was?”

“It seems you’ve given me little choice.”

“And do you like being at my mercy?” Galadriel’s fingers shift, begin rubbing Tauriel in a way that makes her eyelids flutter in response.

Tauriel has never been lazy in love—she is not used to simply accepting what pleasure is given, without giving any of her own. And yet Galadriel has her bound and at her mercy, and all Tauriel can do is relax and let the feelings crest. She lets her muscles go liquid and gentle, the urge to buck up dissolving in a frission of pleasure over her body. The restlessness that itches in her fingers slowly flutters away, driven back by the circling of Galadriel’s fingers, the way they make the heat rise from deep beneath her skin.

“Galadriel,” Tauriel whispers, and the name becomes a moan as the woman presses her lips to the tip of Tauriel’s breasts. She spills kisses down Tauriel’s chest, her hair a maddening softness that scrapes over Tauriel’s shoulders and belly. She is utterly in Galadriel’s power, with nowhere to go, no way of getting out—and no desire to. She feels Galadriel’s fingers push into her, and stars pulse behind her eyes, whole constellations. Tauriel throws her head back, stares at the dark ceiling of Galadriel’s chamber, and for a moment she sees shadowy branches, hissing leaves, the sun caught in a thicket of wooden fingers. _Home_. And Galadriel leans in to press a kiss to her lips, filling her vision, filling her. This kiss does not taste like a goodbye.

Tauriel’s climax rushes over her like water in a stream, her hands yanking helplessly against the ties as she writhes against Galadriel’s touch, her careful stillness broken at last. Her heart beats on every each of her skin, and Galadriel kisses her open mouth as she gasps for breath.

Afterwards, Tauriel slumps against the pillows and tries to remember how to breathe. She feels loose, as if her joints have been opened up and her muscles can slide off the bones. Galadriel lies beside her, her soft head resting in the curve of Tauriel’s shoulder. Tauriel presses her cheek to the softness of her hair, breathing in the smell of her with every shaky breath. She feels Galadriel’s fingers deftly undoing the ties that held her hands, and Tauriel simply lets her arms flop down. For the first time in a long time, the restlessness abates. It will be back, she knows. But for now her blood is a thick, delicious syrup in her veins, and the woman’s body that curls over her is warm and heavy and safe.

“I would call this lesson a success,” Galadriel murmurs into Tauriel’s neck.

Tauriel laughs, staring up at the ceiling which now resembles nothing but the roof of Galadriel’s chambers. Her breath is finally back. And then, without any further hesitation, she reaches down to lay her hands on Galadriel’s shoulders, and deftly roll the two of them over. She settles her weight over Galadriel’s hips, and admires the spill of woman before her, golden hair flung across the pillows, arms raised lazily by her head, the beautiful swell of her breasts and the glint in her dark blue eyes.

“Then let me show you what I learned,” Tauriel says, and leans in once again.

 

 

It is some time later that Tauriel finds herself wandering the edges of Lorien. Her boots leave no track in the earth behind her, nothing to follow back. She wanders the edge of the forest with no direction, no intent—simply testing her orbit, seeing how far she can go. She is still in the balance, though the point of the knife has shifted. The itch in her feet is not as strong as it used to be, but it will never truly go away.

Tauriel faces East, and thinks of the dark sprawl of woods, of the taste of honeyed wine on her tongue, of the thud of her feet as she runs through the dark undergrowth. She closes her eyes—and it is the softness of Galadriel’s lips she feels, not the hilts of her knives or the smell of damp earth, the deep well of Galadriel’s laugh rather than the hissing amusement of Mirkwood’s leaves.

Tauriel turns, back towards Lorien. She begins to walk—she will make it by nightfall. There are wider distances to travel, but they can wait. A slim tie still binds her here, as soft as silk, as warm as a breath on her neck. She breathes in the deep golden smell of Galadriel's woods, and walks towards a different sort of rest.


End file.
